


Behind the Scenes

by songofsunset



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Chromia taking no shit, Comedy, Festival of the FIve, Gen, the Epistemus Temple has very clean floors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5086582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofsunset/pseuds/songofsunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every 50 vorns Cybertron holds a celebration in honor of The Guiding Hand...</p><p>But who is organizing all these races? And, seriously, how the slag do those Adaptus mechs even come up with that stuff?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> Based on[ this ](http://iopele.tumblr.com/post/126789434877/festival-of-the-five-masterpost)  
> AU idea, with complements to all the awesome fic being written for it :)
> 
> As I was reading those fics I just had to ask myself- especially in the Adaptus ones- who the heck is even designing these race courses???
> 
> And so we have this!

**-The Temple of Epistemus-**  
  
“They want us to what???”  
  
“Chromia, please calm down-“  
  
“TheY WANT US TO WHAT???????”  
  
“Chromia, if you’ll just listen-“  
  
“THERE IS NO WAY IN THE PIT THAT WE ARE GOING TO BE ABLE TO- WHAT THE FRAG, OKAY, WHAT THE FRAG, I’M GONNA-” Chromia gestures wildly for a moment, as though looking for some unfortunate bot to strangle, then deflates all at once.  
  
Windblade, newly elected head of the Temple of Epistemus, just shakes her head. “Apparently it’s standard operating procedure,” she says. “They give us the date and location, we provide the dedication and make it look official, they bring in security, and we-“  
  
“-DESIGN A RACETRACK IN LESS THAN A VORN????”  
  
“…Yes?”  
  
Windblade makes a note to get a medic in to do something about Chromia’s optic twitch- that can’t be healthy.  
  
“-And let me guess,” Chromia says, covering her face with her servos, as though merely acknowledging reality would be too much for her right now. “We have to try and make it even fancier and more clever than the last round.”  
  
“Well, actually, they left these templates from previous races we can use for inspiration and-“  
  
“AND WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO DO THIS IN LESS THAN A VORN! hOW THE SLAG DO THE ADAPTUS MECHS HANDLE THIS??? I DON’T CARE IF IT’S JUST A FLYER TRACK, I SIGNED UP TO HELP ORGANIZE SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS!!!”  
  
“It’ll be fine Chromia, we’ll figure this out, we have more than enough mecha to-“  
  
“SERIOUSLY THEIR RACETRACK IS EVEN MORE COMPLEX THAN OURS HOW IN THE PIT DO THOSE NO-GOOD LAYABOUT USELESS PRIESTS EVEN-“  
  
“Chromia, shhh! Calm down! Why don’t you go, I dunno, terrorize the initiates or something. The floors could probably use some more scrubbing, don’t you think? And maybe the labs could use sterilizing.”  
  
Chromia narrows her optics, then- “Yeah. Yeah, they could.” And she stomps off, muttering darkly about races and riddles and organizers.  
  
Windblade sighs, then sends a comm out to the temple dedicates, asking them to meet her for an organizational meeting.  
  
Shortly thereafter, both the floors and the labs are spotless.  
  
**-later-**  
  
Windblade is in a meeting with a handful of other mechs. One is standing in front of the group, with a list of riddles and a map of some sort of racetrack on the wall.  
  
“-and I think we’ve made some excellent progress, so if we just streamline these riddles and finalize the-“  
  
Chromia slams through the door, dragging an obnoxiously whining mech facedown behind her.  
  
“WINDBLADE, I FOUND THIS JACKASS TRYING TO BREAK INTO THE ARCHIVES TO CHEAT ON THE RACE SO I’M GONNA TOSS HIM IN THE BRIG OKAY”  
  
The gathered mechs blink, and the mech standing at the front of the room shifts a few feet sideways to hide the map with her wings.  
  
Windblade stares at her assistant. “-Uh, that’s fine, but I didn’t actually know that we had-“  
  
“-AND I WILL BE HONEST HERE,” says Chromia, “WE DON’T ACTUALLY HAVE A BRIG, I JUST WANTED AN EXCUSE TO DRAG THIS PIECE OF SLAG AROUND ON HIS FACE, BUT DON’T YOU WORRY I’M GONNA IMPROVISE SOMETHING.”  
  
“I want my lawyer-“ croaks Starscream of Vos, as he is hauled bodily out the door by a pede.  
  
“HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT FLOOR SCRUBBING?” asks Chromia, and Starscream’s “NooooOOOOOOoooooooooo~” trails off down the hallway until the door closes with a thump.  
  
The mecha up front resets her vocalizer.  
  
“-and if we finalize the racetrack,” she says, “we should be good to go.”  
  
Windblade nods. “Awesome,” she says, “Awesome.”  
  
**-just before the race-**  
  
“Also, Chromia, what do you think about the camera placement over here?”  
  
Chromia eyes the blueprints critically. “Move a few more over to the orange route,” she says, gesturing, “You don’t want to accidentally give away which route is the correct one, but if you don’t just give them all equal amounts, you’ll throw some mechs off while they try to decide whether we’re messing with them or not. And the cameras will get some great shots of people making split second decisions.”  
  
“Hmmm, good point,” says Windblade, “And that would leave more room for the medics in the central plaza.” Windblade nods, then turns away to comm the news mechs about their most recent revisions.  
  
“Yeah right,” says Starscream, standing a bit behind Chromia. “Like anyone would fall for-“  
  
“DID I ASK FOR YOUR OPINION STARSCREAM???” snaps Chromia.  
  
Starscream yelps. “N- No ma’am!”  
  
“GOOD. BECAUSE THERE’S BEEN A LOT OF MECHS STOMPING AROUND THIS TEMPLE OF LATE, AND THERE’S A LOT OF FLOORS AROUND HERE THAT COULD USE A GOOD SCRUBBING.”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” says Starscream, but as Chromia turns away he mutters “-wouldn’t have to listen to me if you’d let me just-“  
  
“What was that Starscream?”  
  
“Nothing!”  
  
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to remind you that the only reason that you’re still darkening our doorway doing this penance is because you broke in and tried to cheat. Isn’t that right Starscream?” Chromia’s smile could freeze nitrogen. “Behave until after the race, and we’ll ship you back off to the science tower where you belong, yeah? Go fetch me some energon.”  
  
Starscream scowls, but leaves to do as he is told, and Windblade returns to the table, amused. “Everything seems in order. Shall we proceed?  
  
“Lead the way. Those Adaptus mechs aren’t gonna know what hit them.”

 **-later-**  
  
Everything goes smoothly. Windblade gives the opening invocations with suitable solemnity and flair, and during the race only a handful of mechs get injured, and none are deactivated. The winner’s choice is thrilled to be called, and they bond right there on the podium.  
  
And, as soon as the race is over, Chromia bodily tosses Starscream out the window of Windblade’s office. Starscream spends an extra few seconds in robot mode to make rude gestures at Chromia as he hurtles to the street below, then transforms into a jet and streaks away, drawing rude symbols with his exhaust smoke.  
  
“-AND DON’T COME BACK” Chromia yells, shaking her fist out the window.  
  
Windblade laughs from where she has her face in her arms on her desk, maps and datapads and novelty Epistemus-themed souveneirs pushed to one side.  
  
“You doing okay there, Windblade?” asks Chromia, closing and locking the window.  
  
“Yeah,” says Windblade, “I’m just glad it’s over. I honestly don’t know how those Adaptus mechs handle this, their race requirements are even more ridiculous than ours are.”  
  
Chromia shrugs. “Just be glad that’s not our problem, and let’s get back to scheduling the science experiments and worship services.”  
  
  
**-Previously, at the Temple of Primus-**  
  
“Is the racetrack ready?”  
  
“Yes sir, everything is in order.”  
  
“And we’ve contacted the Prime and medics and the media?”  
  
“Yes sir, they all know the starting times, their locations, and the expected completion time.”  
  
“Excellent. Isn’t it great that Primus judges mechs on their inner worth?”  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Which means that we get to use the same race course every single festival and don’t have to deal with whatever the slag the Adaptus mechs keep putting together?”  
  
“Oh, of course! Yes sir, definitely! This is much easier!”  
  
  
**-Previously, at the Temple of Mortilus Death-Bringer-**  
  
“Hey, is the arena ready?”  
  
“Yeah boss, we had it cleaned yesterday, it should still be good- the only energon stains left are for effect”  
  
“And are concessions and media prepared?”  
  
“Yeah boss, they started setting up like an orn ago”  
  
“Cool. …Isn’t it nice that we get to use the same arena we use all the time and don’t have to do anything special for the festival?”  
  
“I’d never thought about it but yeah, totally, that’s pretty sweet,”  
  
“Imagine if we had to come up with some sort of racetrack every time. I dunno how those mechs over at Adaptus even do it.”  
  
“Our way is a lot more badass, boss.”  
  
“And that, dedicate, is why I like your style.”  
  
  
**-Previously, at the Temple of Solomus, Wisdom Incarnate-**  
  
“-and those are the puzzles I’m submitting for the upcoming trial.”  
  
“Gosh, isn’t it so worthwhile to get to make our contestants solve all these riddles and puzzles we’ve been making in our spare time for the past 50 vorns?”  
  
“I know, it’s so great. And so much simpler than so many other contests we could be organizing! Especially-“  
  
“-Adaptus! Haha, yeah, right? Now, do you think I can put in a trick question about the decomposition rate of carbon, or should I just keep it simple?”  
  
“This is the trial of Solomus, my dear mech- use the question about carbon decomposition. Make them _squirm_.”  
  
  
**-MEANWHILE, AT THE TEMPLE OF ADAPTUS, BLESSED WITH AN INFINITY OF SHAPES-**  
  
“hey dude did you get all the blueprint ideas from the initiates dude?”  
  
“Yeah dude”  
  
“And did you give them all high-grade and stimulants to make sure the ideas were extra awesome dude?”  
  
“Yeah dude, there were even like three ideas that were probably fatal dude s’gonna be sick”  
  
“Duuuuuuude”  
  
“I know dude”  
  
“Did you chuck them into the sacred flame dude?”  
  
“Dude, you know I did!”  
  
“Dude let’s go do this slag I’m so hyped”  
  
The dual heads of the temple of Adaptus stand in front of a shadowed doorway, adorned in their traditional flowing steelsilk ceremonial robes and bottlecap necklaces. Green firelight shimmers off what remains visible of their armor, and casts ominous shadows over the rusted floor. They clap their hands together in unison and solemnly intone the ceremonial chant-  
  
“Hey, yo, Adaptus. Hook us up dude, hook us up.”  
  
There is a rumbling as though the very foundations of the earth are shifting, as though some sort of divine will has altered the very framework of reality, as though- as though some unseen hand has set up the most badass energon pong table to ever exist.  
  
One of the priests sticks his helm through the doorway, and sees an immense obstacle course that hadn’t been there only moments before- an underground oil river rushes through razorsharp crystals, enormous whirring fan blades challenge any mech foolish enough to attempt the seemingly straightforward overpass, and an entire room is full of smaller traps and puzzles stretches off into the distance as far as the optic can see.  
  
The two priests nod.  
  
“Siiiiiiiiick”, says one.  
  
“I knoooow,” says the other.  
  
“Let’s go get wasted” says the first one.  
  
“All hail Adaptus dude.”

(And the priests walk back upstairs to the slowly escalating party, not noticing the subtle, subtle echo of a voice of immense power and divinity echoing “slaaaag yeahhhhhhhh brahhhhhhs” down the corridor behind them)

**Author's Note:**

> (A more serious answer to the Adaptus question involves pouring over safety regulations and consulting with the Prime about how many ominous death traps they can include and one super intense temple mech who spends literally 50 vorns working out the racecourse down to the last detail and making blueprints and models the workers can use to execute their vision and comparing the new course to previous races based on fatality rates and camera access and completion times.... but this way is funner ;P)


End file.
